Not Like Her
by weasley.is.my.king1993
Summary: Petunia Dursley is furious that she has been forced to care for her sister's son, and furious that he cries so much during the night. One evening, Petunia reflects on how she won't let Harry turn out like her sister.


Hello all! Since it's Harry Potter's birthday, I felt like it was time for a new Fanfiction.

This one is about Petunia taking care of Harry when he was a baby.

Disclaimer: All characters etc. belong to J K Rowling.

Thank you for stopping by, I hope you enjoy it. Please leave a review on your way out.

_**Not Like Her**_

A distant cry had awoken Petunia Dursley from her slumber. _Dudley? _She thought, as she turned over towards the door. No, no it wasn't Dudley, that wasn't his cry. _Not again._ That was her nephew, Harry's, cry. Harry had been crying so much over the three weeks that he lived with her and her husband, especially at night. It was infuriating. He would cry, and then we would wake Dudley, who was such an angel when he slept.

Petunia prayed that Harry would stop crying on his own, but he didn't. His distant cry was rapidly becoming a wail. Petunia raised herself from the bed, stepped into her slippers, and headed towards the door. She couldn't have Harry wake up Vernon; he had a very important meeting the next morning, and needed his rest. Vernon couldn't stand the fact that Harry was living with them, and he would be furious if Harry woke him. Petunia was also furious to have Harry living under their roof, but there really wasn't anything she could do about it. They had fought—she and Vernon had fought well into the night the day that arrived on their doorstep. Petunia was in complete shock and utterly horrified that she was stuck with her sister's child. Vernon was furious that that Dumbledore person would have the audacity to saddle them with a child with whom they had nothing to do, and clearly didn't want. Vernon wanted to turn Harry over to the orphanage immediately. Petunia had thought about doing the same, but Dumbledore's letter haunted her. He asked her to take care of Harry as if he were her own. She knew she would never be able to do that. She would never be able to look at Harry as a son. He was merely a reminder of the distress that Lily had caused her, and of a lost relationship about which she no longer wanted to be reminded. However, Petunia couldn't bring herself to give Harry away—she didn't know why, but she just couldn't. Perhaps it was her fear of Dumbledore-she knew he was a powerful wizard, what could he do to them if she refused? She and Vernon ended up deciding to keep Harry. Petunia had finally convinced him by saying that if they listened to Dumbledore he would leave them alone, but if they gave Harry up, he could cause trouble. Also, Harry had been at the house for almost a week. At least one of their nosy neighbors was bound to notice another baby, and there were just be more questions if they took him to an orphanage.

Petunia walked into the spare bedroom and made her way over to the crib. Harry was squirming, with his arms and legs flailing wildly. "Hush," Petunia said, lifting him up from the crib and cradling him against her chest. She bounced him as she walked over to the rocking chair in the corner.

The spare bedroom was the only place they could put Harry. There was no way that he would share a room with Dudley. Vernon was livid that they had to buy Harry a crib (How could Dumbledore expect them to buy all of these things—what if they didn't have the money? Of course they did have the money, Vernon had a respectable job to support a family, but still it was unacceptably rude to saddle them with an unwanted child and expect them to pay for everything). The rocking chair in the corner had been a gift to Petunia and Vernon from one of Vernon's cousins when Dudley was born. The rocking chair didn't match the decor in Dudley's room, and Petunia wouldn't have any clashing furniture. They had put the rocking chair in the bedroom so in case one of Vernon's relatives visited, it would look in use in one of the rooms.

Petunia sat in the chair, with Harry cradled against her chest, still crying. "You better not wake up Dudley, or Vernon," Petunia scolded the baby. Petunia shifted Harry into her arms, so his face was looking up into hers. Those eyes—Petunia was looking right into Lily's eyes. The rest of Harry looked remarkably like his father—the black hair, the face, but those eyes were clearly Lily's.

Harry's cry had stifled a little, but he still wasn't sleeping. "Ridiculous," Petunia muttered, more to herself than to Harry. "Up every night with you, when I've got my own child to worry about."

Despite her best effort, Petunia thought of Lily when she looked into Harry's eyes. Lily was gone, dead. Petunia still couldn't quite believe it. She hadn't spoken to Lily for years, and then one day her baby and a note showed up on her door saying that her sister and her husband had been murdered. Her sister was gone, and Petunia wanted no parts of knowing someone who was mixed up in enough to get herself murdered. Petunia felt a tear prickling the corner of her eye, but she blinked it away. She didn't know why she was crying. She hadn't thought about her sister for years, and she truly had no interest in associating with her, her husband, or her child. Perhaps it was just knowing in the back of her mind that Lily was still there, and now she wasn't. Petunia had cried each night for the first week. Not in front of Vernon, never in front of Vernon, he would never understand it. Petunia didn't even understand it herself. Vernon would never understand why she would upset herself over the death of her sister when they hadn't spoken in years. That was just it-her sister. Like it or not, Lily was Petunia's sister. They didn't talk, they didn't associate with each other, and Petunia never even thought about Lily, but they had years of being sisters-years of having tea parties, and going to the park, and sharing secrets. Those years had been destroyed by Lily's lifestyle—she had chosen to go to that school, to live with those people, to even marry one of them. Lily had made her choice, and Petunia had made hers. They lives went in two different directions, and their memories were tarnished, but this was different. Now that Lily was dead, those years somehow seemed to resurface. They seemed to matter more, yet seemed to be even farther away.

Petunia was furious with her sister. How could she get involved with those people? How could she choose to live that kind of life? How could she be stupid enough to get herself blown up and leave Petunia with her son?

One thing was for sure, there was to be no magic under her and Vernon's roof. They had both agreed on that right away. Harry would grow up away from that. He would not be taught about wizards and witches and magic. He would go to a regular school, and live a normal life with them. The abnormality ended with Lily.

Harry had finally stopped crying. He was still awake though, and making small noises. "Won't you ever go to sleep?" Petunia asked. "You're always up half the night and you have me up too." As Petunia looked at him she tried not to be angry. She tried to remind herself that Harry was a baby, and he had no control over the parents he had—but it didn't work. How dare her sister's son make himself such a burden on her. She wondered what Lily did when Harry cried like this. Did he cry this much at home, or was he crying for the parents who weren't ever coming back?

"What did your mother do when you cried like this?" She asked looking down at Harry, whose eyes were blinking heavily. "Well, one thing is for sure, you're not going to end up like her," Petunia said. No magic, no weird wizard friends, no strange school that taught abnormal things. Nothing. None of that. Harry would not end up being a wizard like his parents, and that was an absolute fact.

Harry had fallen asleep finally, and Petunia got up slowly from the rocker and placed him gently in his crib. "No, you won't end up like her." Petunia convinced herself she was talking about the magic, but in the back of her mind, she knew that wasn't the only thing. Harry wouldn't end up being magic like his mother, but he also wouldn't end up dead like her. He wasn't going to end up murdered like Lily had been. All that magic had killed Lily. Petunia wasn't going to let it do the same thing to Lily's son. Fresh tears began to prickle her eyes, and she blinked them away yet again. She walked to the door, and closed it gently. "No, you won't end up like her."

I hope you enjoyed the story! Thanks for reading! Please leave a review!

Oh, and Happy Birthday Harry Potter and J K Rowling!


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